Time Heals All Wounds
by eli2abelle
Summary: Even though the bullet wounds have long since healed, the scars will always remain.


**By the way, this was actually going to be called 'Long Live The Queen', but it was quite a common title for NCIS fanfics so I reluctantly settled with the current title. I got some inspiration for this story when I read the first few chapters of 'An Enduring Friendship' by Levana Fay again. I really recommend reading it if you haven't already... it's totally worth it. Over the last couple of years, I have written heaps of fanfics (close to a hundred... whaaaat?) and most of these are NCIS related. I have written out the scene where Jenny was shot at least 5 times... and it's different for every story! This, however, is the first one to ever see the light of day. The first to be seen by anyone other than myself! I have my fingers crossed (LITERALLY) while typing this in the hopes that you will like it! Okay I uncrossed them now. That was just wierd. On another note, is it wierd or weird? I researched it but even oxford spelt it wrong. Meh. Back to the matter at hand, I hope you like it. Feel free to point out anything that may not fit with the timeline of NCIS. I did my best but sometimes my best is just not good enough!**

* * *

I go into the bathroom and close the door tightly, walking over to the mirror. The woman staring back at me has her messy red hair pulled back into a tight bun. She has bags under her eyes from lack of sleep, and her cheek has a nasty purple bruise forming from the night before, when the man she works for had come home drunk. I sigh, leaning my forehead against the cool glass. My life used to look so much different. I used to have a purpose. I used to save people's lives, and fight for my country. Now, my purpose is to run around after a wealthy man and his wife, and to take care of their little girl. I can still remember the day my life changed. The day I stopped being me, and became this empty shell I have the nerve to call a human being.

* * *

 _I grabbed my gun and ducked down behind one of the tables as the door to the diner burst open, silently cursing Mike Franks for leaving right when I needed him most. I jumped up and shot one of the two men in the chest before he even knew where I was. The other started firing madly in my direction, and one of his bullets buried itself in my left shoulder as I ducked back down. My gun started slipping from my grasp as I allowed myself a few seconds of pain before reloading and leaping up again. The man had moved across the room, and the few seconds it took me to find where he was gave him time to fire again. This time he got me in my left side. The bullet ripped into my skin, but I gritted my teeth and fired not one, but three bullets in quick succession. He jerked and fell over backwards, blood pooling from the wounds in his chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two more men appear on the other side of the room, having entered through the back door. I spun around, gun raised. I wasn't quick enough. Something slammed into my chest, knocking me off-balance. Another bullet quickly followed. I was too shocked to cry out. My legs gave way beneath me, and I felt myself falling. I was lying on the cold, hard floor, and a man was bending over me. I felt a needle being jabbed into my neck, but was too weak to resist. My eyes drooped as the liquid entered my system, and the needle was removed. Another gunshot. For a moment, I thought I had been shot again. But that didn't make sense. I was already dying. They only had to wait a few minutes before I bled out. I let my eyes slide closed, unable to keep them open any longer. Another gunshot. A dull thud as someone hit the floor. Someone calling my name. Fingers probing my neck. Then nothing._

* * *

"Julie!" A voice roars from downstairs. Then, "Where is that woman? Julie!"

"Coming!" I yell in Hebrew, flinging open the bathroom door and hurrying down the stairs. I enter the living room to find the man in charge of me standing over by the front door. His wife has one arm tucked into his. When I make eye contact with her, she purposely looks away.

"Where do you think you've been?" He yells.

"I'm sorry Sir. It won't happen again," I say softly.

"It had better not. We're going out to town. Take care of the child. If this house isn't perfect by the time we get home, you'll be sorry!" he threatens before walking out the door and slamming it behind him. I turn to see Zelda standing behind me.

"Come here baby," I say, holding out my arms.

She runs into them, and I lift her up and sit her on my hip. She wraps her arms around me neck, and I hold her close.

"You want to come watch Julie do the dishes?"

She nods, and I carry her over to the sink, sitting her up on the bench so she can watch me as I work. She silently watches me, but as I start to wash another plates she speaks up in perfect English.

"What did you want to be when you grew up Julie?"

I don't stop what I'm doing, but think carefully about my answer.

"Well," I start, switching from Hebrew to my native language. "My father died when I was very young. He used to be a soldier."

She nods. She's seen the men in uniforms that came to the house sometimes.

"When I left school, I decided that I wanted to join the Navy like him. I was an agent."

Her eyes light up. "Did you have a gun?"

I look over at the four year old perched on the edge of the counter, saddened by the fact that she lived in a world where men with guns visited the house on a daily basis. I pull my hands out of the sink and dry them on the towel. "How about you play with your dolls while I do the washing?" I lift her into my arms and carry her out of kitchen and into the living room.

She happily runs over to play with her toys, and I sit down on the couch and watch her for a few minutes. It makes me so happy, seeing her like this. It reminds me of what could have happened between Jethro and I. Even though we had long gone our separate ways, while I was the director I would often think about him. Wish I hadn't left. Wish that were were still together. But everything changed that day. From the very moment the men burst through that door, I knew that there was no going back. I did it for him, and I don't regret it one bit.

* * *

 _When I woke up, I was lying on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance. For a few seconds, I was relieved. It was over. I was alive. Svetlana had failed. I could go home. Then a face appeared above me._

" _Awake at last, Jennifer."_

" _Svetlana," I hissed, struggling against the ropes tying me to the stretcher. This caused fresh blood to soak through the bandages on my chest, and I cried out as the vehicle hit a pothole._

 _She hushed me. "No need for that. You'll only injure yourself further." She turned around and picked something up off the seat. "This won't hurt a bit," she assured me. I caught sight of the syringe she was holding, and fought to get free. She motioned to the man standing on the other side of my bed, and he took a step forwards, pushing my shoulders back down._

" _Let me go!" I tried to jerk away, but he held me fast. I was unable to defend myself as the needle pierced the skin of my arm. I screamed, and he clapped a hand over my mouth as Svetlana slowly pushed down on the plunger, sending the substance through my veins. I twisted around in the bed, but there was nothing I could do to stop her. She pulled the needle out, and threw it on the floor behind her._

" _We won't be needing that again," she said._

 _I was already starting to feel the effects of the drug. My struggles were getting weaker, and she watched me with a smile on her face. The ambulance stopped._

" _We're here."_

 _The back doors opened, and the stretcher was being lifted out. Everything was blurring together. At one point I caught sight of a plane waiting on the runway. Then I was inside, being strapped into a seat. We were in a cargo plane. My fumbled brain managed to give me that one piece of information. We were moving. I got the feeling that we were in the air. Svetlana was sitting across from me. She looked up, feeling my eyes staring at her._

" _Don't worry. The flight will take quite a while, but you'll probably be unconscious for most of it."_

 _I was finding it harder and harder to keep my eyes open. Finally, I gave in to the darkness._

* * *

"Julie!"

I looked up to see Zelda looking at me in concern.

"What were you thinking about?"

I shook my head, getting to my feet. "Nothing that you need to worry yourself over. You stay here. I'll be upstairs, alright?"

She nodded, and I quickly exited the room and ran up the steps.

When I arrived on the second floor, I continued upstairs to the attic. When I arrived, I quietly shut the door behind me, not wanting her to come up and see this. Slowly, I walked over to the dirty mirror hanging on the wall, and lifted my shirt up a bit. The scars were still there. A constant reminder that I had failed to protect Jethro. I was supposed to kill Svetlana once and for all, but instead she kept me alive and took me to a prison camp, where I was tortured for information. When I arrived here, I was relieved at first. I had thought nothing could be worse than death. I was wrong. I drop my shirt back down suddenly, as if it had burned me. I had failed, and Jenny Shepard does not fail. I was going to escape. And I would stop at nothing until Svetlana was dead.

* * *

 **Ooooooh cliffhanger! That probably made it not as effective but who cares, really? I'm really hoping you guys liked it. Please review, coment, message, or whatever you call it! I really want to hear what you thought! I have planned this out nicely so should be able to publish another chapter, but, as per usual, I will only do so if I feel that enough people want me to. Otherwise I really should stop procrastinating and get back to writing chapter 7 of A New Life!**

 **\- eli2abelle**


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